


Court of Dragons and Wolves

by doomeric



Series: Fortune Favours the Brave [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone is related, F/M, No Robert’s Rebellion, Original Characters - Freeform, Robert’s Rebellion Era, The Targaryens are luckier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-04-16 05:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomeric/pseuds/doomeric
Summary: They say the reign of King Aegon V is as peaceful as the Old Kings’ was - and just as long. It isn’t easy though - not with his many children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren who so love to cause trouble - but the Targaryens make it through (eventually).Or, Rhaegar Targaryen - currently second in line for the Iron Throne - marries Lyanna Stark, a girl with the blood of First Men and Valyrians in her veins.BEING REWRITTENHey! So I know this work/series has been abandoned for A While now but I am going to be rewriting it on my new ao3ckedrellaso if you want to actually read the fic be sure to check it out over there haha. I also have a tumblr of the same name.........





	1. Lyanna I

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow up to my fic “mother’s mercy” where Rhaelle Targaryen marries Edwyle Stark after Ormund Baratheon dies early on, and is the mother of Steffon, Rickard and a few OCs.
> 
> And after Jaehaerys dies, Shaera too remarries - she weds Ulson Dayne and is the mother of Arren (elder Dayne brother, has no name is canon), Arthur, Ashara and Allyria Dayne.
> 
> Also, all of the children of Aerys and Rhaella live because, well, the Targaryens are luckier in this world!
> 
> So, one way or another Everyone Is Related. There are a lot of OCs here, btw.
> 
> Obviously, I don’t own ASOIAF/GoT or any of the characters. I guess I own the OCs but, whatever? :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna weds her prince.

Looking in the mirror, Lyanna almost cannot recognise herself. Her dark curling hair is bound around her head in elaborate braids that took an arm of quick-fingered maids and all hair is out of her face, which is a rare thing indeed. Grandmother Rhaelle told her it brings out the slight purple hint in her eyes, which also is helped by how pale her face is.

Lyanna looks at herself in the mirror more closely than ever she has before. Her eyes are quite big, her nose rather small, her eyebrows are thin but long and her freckles are still there, unfortunately.

She looks over to handmaidens who are sorting out her dress. Once she is wed she shall take on true ladies-in-waiting, daughters and wives of nobles lords, but for now she has the - rather few - women in her family with her, along with some maids.

Grandmother Rhaelle is there, come down to the capital from Winterfell for the time in a long while. Great-grandmother Betha, who Lyanna has known only for a week, offers Lyanna some comforting words about wedding into the family of dragons. It is odd for Lyanna to think of Queen Betha as the spirited, adventurous young woman from the stories but the woman was still fierce and loving as Grandmother and Father have always said.

Mother is also here too, seemingly as uncomfortable as Lyanna herself in the South, for the most southron from Winterfell Lyarra Stark has gone is Raventree Hall, as far as Lyanna knows. Even for Aunt Branda’s wedding in the Stormlands - but that’s because her mother and aunt have not been on speaking terms for a long while... since the wedding of her aunt and Ser Harold Rogers, actually.

Lyanna remembers her mother and father saying something about how Aunt Branda had never felt at home in the North, despite being born and raised and never knowing anything else... until she went to a tourney at Riverrun and met Ser Harrold. Oh, and when they thought Lyanna couldn’t hear, her parents spoke of Branda’s selfishness, her lack of the loyalty and family-first mindset that was so common in the House of Stark.

However, Lyanna thought her Aunt Branda was a brilliant woman with the same wit and humour she had herself, except Branda Stark Rogers was much more of a southron Lady than Lyanna can ever hope to be. In truth, she doesn’t understand why her mother resents her aunt’s choice of husband though. Mother always complains- rightfully so- about how unfair it is that girls’ and women’s fates are chosen by the women around them - isn’t it absolutely brilliant that Aunt Branda chose her husband and home? Lyanna thought so.

It is easy to see Branda has lived in the South for over two decades now; her skin is tanned, her hair far lighter than it must have been once, and she has less lines across her face - well, she has laughing lines around her eyes and mouth and even as she speaks with the sister who, as far as Lyanna knows, completely ignored her after she fell in love, Branda seems content.

 _That is who I wish to be,_ she thinks.

The only other women of her blood in the room are her cousins, Mariah and Alynne. They are Aunt Branda and Ser Harrold’s children, with a brother named Jasper in between them.

Mariah was older and married to Arren Dayne, who was the half-brother of Prince Aerys and Princess Rhaella and the child of once-princess Shaera who was to be at her wedding, so now she was Lady of Starfall. She looked the part of a Dayne with her dress of lilac silk with a silver stash over her and her dark hair - which curled like Lyanna’s - was braided simply around her head to show off her skin, far more tanned than Lyanna’s would ever be. Her eyes were a lovely dark green that Lyanna supposed came from her father and her nose and ears were very small.

Apart from looks, Mariah Dayne also was someway similar to Lyanna. Mariah loved to ride and climb, once wanted to learn the ways of the sword, though she told Lyanna she now preferred the bow and arrow. Her cousin, unfortunately wouldn’t be staying in the capital as one of Lyanna’s ladies after the wedding - because, as she said, Starfall needed an heir and she suspected she was with child; though, apparently, she would wait for this pregnancy to be confirmed with the maester at Starfall because she didn’t trust Pycelle.

Alynne Rogers would be staying with Lyanna as a lady, though they were unsure how long for as Alynne had been betrothed to Aemon Estermont for a while now and they would soon be due to wed. Lyanna thought that Aemon was a lucky man to wed Alynne. Not only was she liked a maiden from the songs Lyanna adored - with her big, dark green eyes, button nose, curling dark blonde hair and lovely smile; truly, she looked like a princess - but she was also sweet and kind and also had a wonderfully dark sense of humour.

Lyanna almost resented her mother for not speaking to Aunt Branda, for if the women were on talking terms she might know her cousins. And surely Brandon and Mariah would have got on brilliantly, as would Ned and Alynne, surely. Lyanna has yet to meet Jasper but if he grew up with Mariah and Alynne he must be a good enough man.

“Are you ready for your dress?” Aunt Branda, who knows more of Southron fashion than Lyanna and her mother ever will, asks.

Lyanna nods a yes and looks to the dress she will be wed in. She knew little about any fashion, let alone dresses, but even she could tell this was utterly beautiful. It was white and grey, made with fabrics from Dorne and the Reach but also there was some woolly material from the North to honour her homeland. The stitching too was done to perfection and there were miniature wolves running around the waist.

“It’s beautiful,” Lyanna says aloud, unable to help it. Yet, by the end of the night it’ll be ruined from drunken men tearing at it.

“You look like the princess you shall be,” Alynne tells her with a smile, holding Lyanna’s maiden cloak.

The heavy maiden cloak is placed on Lyanna, who wears a nervous smile. She cannot be nervous though, she is to be a princess. _I am a Stark, I can be brave. I must be._

 

* * *

  

The Sept of Baelor was truly magnificent, Lyanna can almost see why people believe the gods are here. And yet... the Old gods have no home in the sept. Her gods were made for windy days, tall mountains, vast lands, cold snow, storm nights... not pretty buildings.

She looks to her father as the doors open. Lord Rickard Stark nods to her, looking so proud of her. “I love you, father,” she whispers as they turn to face the crown within the sept.

“And I you, my wolf,” he tells her, “I am so very proud of you.”

There is no time to reply because they must walk through the sept down to where Prince Rhaegar stands beside King Aegon and Prince Aerys. Then, at the side, were all the other Targaryens. _How am I to ever remember all these names?_ Lyanna wonders helplessly.

As they walk past her own family, Brandon gives her the thumbs up and Benjen sticks his tongue out, which helps her mood. But it is Ned’s comforting smile that she remembers throughout the day. Her mother is holding back tears, Lyanna sees, but she manages a smile for her.

Soon enough, her father leads her to stand beside Prince Rhaegar. He is truly beautiful, even more so than he had been last week, when they first met. His hair is long for a man’s and is as silver as any Targaryens, his eyes were deep purple, almost like her father’s. Rhaegar was taller than a typical Targaryen but he was just as pale. His smile was almost shy and when his hand met hers Lyanna found that his touch was gentle.

 _Perhaps I can be happy here,_ she thinks, she hopes.

They say their prayers and vows and just like that, she is a woman wed. A princess, a Targaryen. The red and black cloak is heavy on her shoulders but Lyanna doesn’t show it - she is brave, she is still a Stark.

 

* * *

 

Her wedding feast is as glorious as one would expect. Lyanna dances all night long, first with her husband, of course, where she sees that Rhaegar is very good at dancing and moves quietly and gracefully. Next she dances with her father and brothers, then Robert Baratheon, Elbert Arryn and Jaime Lannister, Oberyn Martell and Arthur Dayne, her cousin Jasper Rogers, among others.

By the time she sits back down, her feet are aching but her smile is wide. Rhaegar sits, talking with Ser Arthur, who Lyanna has noticed he is close to. The knight nods respectfully when he sees her sitting down. Ser Arthur says some words with Rhaegar before leaving to speak with his sister.

“You enjoy dancing?” Rhaegar asks her, a small smile on his lips.

Lyanna nods enthusiastically. “Yes, almost as much as riding. Do you like it? Dancing or riding, I mean.”

“Both, though I admit I am not so good a rider as I might wish,” Rhaegar admits.

She laughs at that. “Perhaps I can teach you. In Winterfell the smallfolk call me half a horse and I’ve only ever been beaten by Brandon in a race. Not even Bethany Ryswell can beat me, and she’s good.”

“Wonderful,” Rhaegar says, and an awkward silence follows as neither can think of what to say.

Eventually, Lyanna cannot bear it anymore. “Do you like... riding with your siblings? You have a few, do you not?”

There is an amused smile on the prince’s face. “Yes, mother and father blessed me to never be alone - or have a moment of privacy.” Lyanna laughs at that, understanding how difficult siblings can be. “Shaena is about your age, I believe, and is sure to be happy to welcome you as a sister. Daeron is... loud and boisterous and my complete opposite in... everything, really.

“Aegon is more of a warrior than I shall ever be and Jaehaerys is a brilliant strategist at nine, young Viserys... I do not know him so well but he is a sweet child who loves making others smile.”

That causes Lyanna to smile. When Rhaegar asks of her siblings, the smile grows bigger still. “Brandon is as Northern as you can get; he is loud and confident and loyal, he can ride and fight and drink. He has a good heart, despite the impression he gives of caring not at all. Then Ned... well, he was fostered away when I was young but he is kind and caring and selfless, I wish I knew him better. But Benjen I know all too well! He is my greatest friend.” _And the one I shall miss the most._

“They can visit,” Rhaegar promises, “and you surely must go back to Winterfell a few times - for royal business, of course.” Rhaegar winks at her and Lyanna laughs - then men call for the bedding and Rhaegar turns solemn again.

He promises not to cause her anymore pain than is required and Lyanna is happy to see he keeps to that promise. Still, that night she dreams of Winterfell and snow and wolves and everything else she shall miss.


	2. Brandon I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brandon makes a decision.

Brandon couldn’t believe how bloody warm it was down here, in the capital. It was a rare moment that he wasn’t sweating like a leaking bucket! He prays Lyanna shall get used to it during her time here for surely he shan’t.

Yet, he is of a mind to stay here... Brandon groans - thinking so hurts his head, after all, and this requires a lot of thinking. Besides, father isn’t like to agree to it, is he? He supposes he shall find out soon enough, when he asks as they break their fast.

It is only Ned, Father and himself at the table in the morning. Lyanna is eating with Princess Rhaella, Mother is making up lost time with Aunt Branda and Benjen was still with some of the other young boys (Brandon is certain his father is thinking to foster Benjen down here, with Edmure Tully and Renly Baratheon).

Ned is quiet as ever, Father looks too tired to talk as he chews on his food and Brandon is too nervous to eat. Eventually, he decides he must speak up. “Father, might I, uh, ask you a question?”

Father raises a brow, as Ned looks between them hboth before looking suspiciously at Brandon. “In private?” Father asks, sparing Ned a glance.

“No... it involves Ned too, in a way,” Brandon answers vaguely. Both his father and his brother give him a look as though they know he’s caused trouble.

“Alright, what is it?” Father asks and under that critical look, Brandon has to tell himself to sit straighter. “I would like to stay down here, in Kings Landing - with Lyanna.”

The two men look at him. Father nods. “I was hoping for someone in our family to represent the North on the Small Council but I had thought Ned, having grown in the South, would be a suitable choice. Besides, Brandon, you are my heir, you must know the North even better than you do now.”

Brandon takes a deep breath. “Well, I was thinking of perhaps joining the Kingsguard... I know there’s a space free and I’ve heard Jaime Lannister was thinking of taking it but the Old Lion shan’t ever let such a thing happen and besides, Ned is better suited to rule than I -“

“What?” Father demands, standing up.

Ned is quick to join him. “You cannot join the Kingsguard!”

“It’s perfect though! I’m far more a warrior than I ever will be a ruler, Lyanna shan’t be alone down here and there will be a Stark on the council - me! Ned is a perfect heir - he’s intelligent, loyal, selfless, inspiring - don’t argue, Ned. And, Ned has ties with the South through the Arryns and Baratheons - allies are never a bad thing to have, you’ve said that a hundred times, Father!”

By the end of his rant, Brandon too is standing - it is only now he realises Ned is almost of a height with him. There is a long silence and Brandon wonders if perhaps he had gotten away with it when his father gains his voice again.

“What of the Tully alliance? Lord Hoster is a proud man, as you well know. And what shall we do for our alliance with the Vale and Arryns, now that Ned is apparently heir and therefore must come back North? And the Baratheons? What of the matches I hoped for Ned? I was planning to wed him to Barbrey Ryswell to smooth things -“

Both Brandon and Ned shout at that.

“Ned cannot wed Barbrey!” Brandon shouts as Ned shakes his head, saying, “No, father, I cannot.”

“Well,” Lord Rickard’s voice is like steel. “I suppose you might as well choose, Ned, for it seems everyone get to choose their destinies now - never mind all the promises and alliances that have been made! What an absolutely ridiculous thing to ask, Brandon! After all I have done to ensure you know all you can of the North and what it takes to rule it and you listened to none of it!”

“I was listening, father,” Brandon argues, but he looks down in shame. He hadn’t thought this all through, had he? “I’ve known for years the life of ruling wasn’t right for me but... well, this is my chance to do my duty to House Stark. I can never honour our house by being a wise lord but a fierce warrior - that I can be. This is my chance to do right by you, father.”

His father looks away, disappointment clear on his face. “I shall speak with you later, Brandon. If you are still dreaming this impossible dream... you can speak with me and your mother about it. I have more serious matters to take care of.”

He leaves and it is just Brandon and Ned left.

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” Ned asks after a moment. “You would give it all up; a wife, a family, a kingdom?”

“Yes,” Brandon says instantly, but that doesn’t please his brother.

Ned looks at the floor, seemingly awkward and uncomfortable. “You might’ve asked me about this first, no? Perhaps you were too busy thinking of yourself, as ever, that not for one moment did you consider that maybe I don’t wish to be Lord of Winterfell one day? Mayhaps I want to go to Storms End with Robert and council him for the rest of my days, or I might like to have a quiet life with some second born daughter with a dozen children? No, you care only for yourself.”

His brother, who he had thought might support him in his, leaves too and Brandon is all alone.

He must speak with some people so Father knows how truly serious about this he is - it is the only way.

 

* * *

 

Brandon thinks of going to Lyanna about it but she will likely tell Benjen who may well tell Ned who will certainly inform Father of everything. He doesn’t know Prince Rhaegar well at all, so there’s no point asking him. He or Prince Aerys, actually.

His Aunt Branda was a lady-in-waiting to Princess Rhaella though, and the two were still good friends... he should ask the princess. Except, he has no idea where a princess would be at this time of the day - or any time, really.

Brandon decides to have a walk around the grounds of the castle - it is a warm day, won’t the princess be outside? Again, he has no clue and has just about given up on asking Princess Rhaella when he, literally, walks into her daughter.

In all his time in Kings Landing Brandon had only seen Princess Shaena at formal events and even then, from a distance. As like any Targaryen princess, Shaena was utterly beautiful, almost inhumanly so. Silver-gold hair, lilac eyes, pale skin, short frame, a certain grace in everything she did.

Up close though, Brandon saw so much more; a very light dusting of brown freckles across her small nose and high cheeks. Her hair was more silver-honey than he had thought and her lips were plump and -

“Brandon Stark?” She asks, sounding surprised - but pleasantly so, or mayhaps Brandon is just imagining it.

“Aye,” he says, smiling charmingly. “And you can only be Princess Shaena, yes?”

The princess’ smile is one of the best he thinks he’s seen. Brandon shakes the thought away as she answers. “Yes, I am. Are you lost, my lord?”

That catches him off guard. “What? Why’d you think that?”

She laughs - and Brandon cannot stop himself from thinking how beautiful a sound it is... gods, when did he become a fool? “You have the look of a lost man on your face. You needn’t worry, it wasn’t a completely terrible look.”

Brandon too laughs, though nervously - for some reason. “I’m actually, uh, looking for your mother...or anyone in your family on the Small Counil..?” Gods, this wasn’t going as well as he had planned.

Princess Shaena raises a brow. “Well, no doubt my mother is with my brother Viserys but grandmother might be free. Grandmother Betha been wanting to speak personally with a Stark during your time here, so she told me, to speak of ‘the true gods’ and such. Why do you need to speak with anyone, though?” She asks it curiously, not harshly like Father had.

Without knowing why, Brandon tells her he wishes to join the Kingsguard, even if this really should be kept a secret. “You mustn’t tell a living soul, though. Please.”

“Of course not, my lord,” Shaena promises. “I think what you’re doing is brave, by the way, and very honourable. Giving up your freedom to care for your sister - and the realm, of course.”

“Yeah, that too,” Brandon agrees, trying not to think how he isn’t doing this for the realm at all, even if the princess was only japing. In all honesty, when first he thought of this idea he didn’t even think of Lyanna but himself - he really was as selfish as Father said and he knew Ned often thought.

Before he thought of Lyanna being all alone in a foreign, different land with an odd husband from a very... unique family, Brandon thought of what the Kingsguard gave him; freedom. Yes, those of the sacred Brotherhood were meant to give up their families, titles, women, children - essentially, your life is no longer yours. But for him, the opposite was true. He didn’t want to be Lord of Winterfell and Head of House Stark, he didn’t want to be in some arranged marriage and bear children whose mother he didn’t love.

He was selfish, yes, but still a Stark, and honour ran in his veins - even if some would doubt it, including him. Brandon could simply pack up some things and leave for the Wall, or Dorne, or mayhaps he could visit Essos; Braavos, where all were welcome; Valyria, where the greatest empire in the world was built and then collapsed in on itself; the Dothraki Sea, where men were praised for fighting more than anything.

Brandon could just imagine himself with a long braid and an army - no, a khalasar behind him. But he was never a dreamer, was he? He did his duty, in the end, in ways often unexpected.

“I can walk you to Queen Betha’s chambers, then. I don’t have lessons for an hour yet,” Shaena tells him and Brandon can do nothing but walk.

She takes him through corridor upon corridor, walking into great halls and kitchens before finally they end up in the right hall. Shaena leads him to a door with two of the Kingsguard standing outside. Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold stare down at him. Brandon couldn’t imagine these men as his ‘brothers’ - mayhaps Ned wasn’t so bad, and Benjen is a good lad, even the Tully boy... Edmund? Edmure? Whatever his name was, Brandon wondered if he could eventually get used to him...

Yet, it was too late. Shaena nods to the two men. “Lord Brandon wishes to speak with my grandmother, the Queen.”

After what seems a hundred years, Ser Barristan nods, takes his eyes off Brandon, and opens the door, announcing his name to the old queen. He looks back at Shaena for a moment, “Thank you, I truly was lost.”

She only smiles at him. “Do not think of it, my lord.” And then she is gone. He forces himself to go into the chamber, after getting an odd look from Ser Gerold.

When he gets inside one of the guards close the door. Brandon, upon entering, is hit by a sudden breeze. It is a light one, but it makes him feel at home, almost. “Hello?” He calls out, suddenly quite unsure. To go behind Lord Rickard’s back ended badly for any and all who tried it - his father believed in honour and loyalty and trust above all, didn’t he?

“You’re the eldest Stark?” A voice asks, sounding kind and curious - and Northern! But Brandon first follows the voice out to the balcony, past a bedchamber and bathing chamber and solar, among other things.

Queen Betha Blackwood-Targaryen is an old woman indeed. She was almost eighty years old, he’d heard, and had been queen for over fifty years. Betha’s famous black braid had turn grey but still it remained a braid, tied in a Northern fashion. Her eyes were still dark though, and had a glint if mischief in them. Just like him.

It is then that Brandon remembers he shares blood with this queen. She too, it seems, remembers. “You’re my sister Melantha’s great-grandchild and my own, yes? Isn’t that funny? You’re Edwyle’s son’s son. I have yet to speak with your sister, Princess Lyanna she is now, I suppose.” Brandon nods, imaging Lyanna as a true, Southron princess... “Have a seat, my boy.”

Brandon does, looks out to the sea, Dragonstone only a speck in the distance. “Did you choose this room?” He asks, unsure where else to begin. He is unsure quite often as of late, it seems.

“Of course,” Queen Betha confirms. “The breeze here is one of the only ones you can get in this city, in the Crownlands at all. I’ve even tried to go in the sea, many years ago. I wouldn’t dare if I were you, it’s very warm. Just like everything else here. Now, boy of my blood, what do you wish to ask of me?”

For some reason, Brandon was quite sure the queen would be his ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to headcanon that as well as being a Blackwood - one of the most Northern houses in the South - Betha’s (and therefore Melantha’s) mother was also an ‘actual Northerner’, maybe a Karstark or something?


	3. Rhaegar I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar catches up on some family matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I used to be a big R/L fan and for some reason sort of, fell out of love for the ship? Well, I’m back into it now, haha!

Rhaegar makes a point to break his fast with his great-grandmother at least once a week. Queen Betha isn’t so similar to him - in looks nor personality - but they have always had an odd companionship. (Often, Rhaegar wonders if it is because Betha was never close to any of her children - who she claimed to be far too Targaryen for her Blackwood tastes - or even her grandchildren.)

But Queen Betha offers good advice and she has good taste in everything, really, from clothes to people.

They sit in her dining chambers on a warm morning, the balcony doors wide open. As ever, the food is delicious, even if some of the meat was a little bland for his tastes - the queen often complained to him of how sickly and sweet the food in the Crownlands were.

“Rhaegar, how is your marriage going along?” She asks between sips of her watered down wine.

The thought of Lyanna brings a smile to his face. His wife was wild and beautiful, passionate and generous, spirited, argumentative and caring. Utterly perfect, really. They had been betrothed for a long while and had written to one another many times over their years being promised to each other and Rhaegar had so cherished those letters.

Being with Lyanna for truth was even better, even if they had been wed only for a moon. She was everything he could want and just the type of queen the realm would need one day. His brother Daeron called him a fool in love but Rhaegar and Daeron hadn’t ever gotten along so well, considering how different they were. Shaena was of an age with Lyanna and told Rhaegar his wife spoke of him constantly when they were parted - no doubt Arthur and Jon could say the same for him.

His other siblings too had fallen in love with Lyanna, and she them. Aegon, just turned nine, was already trying to stand out from the crowd (which Rhaegar knew worried Mother because unlike Daeron, who was cocky and loud, Aegon wanted to be popular and well-liked and better than others, but that should hopefully leave him with age). Aegon liked Lyanna because she told him the stories of kings and warriors from the House of Stark.

Jaehaerys, seven and already believed by some in their family to have the infamous dragon dreams, wasn’t so solemn as one might expect from a child forced to see an unavoidable future - Jaeh having the dreams made Rhaegar wonders if his second youngest brother was the Prince That Was Promised, but he tried not to think too hard on it. Lyanna often told Jaeh about the greenseerers and wargs of the North, which never failed to cheer him up.

As for Viserys, well, he was easily pleased. He loved to be around other people, his goal was to make everyone he meets smile and laugh, Lyanna being no exception. More than once Lyanna had wondered aloud whether Viserys might one day foster up North. His brother was five though, there was still time to think on his potential fosterings.

Not only his siblings but his whole father liked Lyanna. Mother simply adored having a daughter other than Shaena to dote upon and Father enjoyed speaking with her about the differences between the North and, well, everywhere else. Father had vowed that when he becomes king he shall visit the North for himself.

That’s only if he does become king though. Great-Grandfather Aegon has sat the throne for a long while and Queen Betha is as brilliant a queen as the Good Queen.

“My marriage,” Rhaegar tells the queen with a grin, “is going quite well.”

Queen Betha shares his smile. “Young love is so underrated, I find. Aegon and I were like you and Lyanna once, decades ago. Except, your father completely accepts your match. King Maekar wasn’t so sure on me, but I won him over - eventually.”

Rhaegar is simply happy to see Betha remembering those days, the joy clear on her face. “I hope Lyanna and I have as many years together and you and Great-grandfather.”

It is then that his great-grandmother’s face falls and Rhaegar is quite surprised. “Rhaegar, you are wiser than any I have met - save perhaps my sister, and mayhaps your late uncle Daeron’s wife -“ she always had that grieving look upon her face when she speaks of Uncle Daeron (he is their great-uncle really, but uncle is easier) who died when Rhaegar was ten, in battle-training, “- well, you know what I mean. That is why I tell you this news first, after only Aegon himself and Duncan and Jenny.”

“What is it?” Rhaegar asks, brows furrowed in worry, he puts a hand on Betha’s frail but strong one.

“Well, we believe that your kingly great-grandfather, my beloved Aegon, is due to die within the end of this year,” she tells him, the same grief she has when thinking of Uncle Daeron - or even grandfather Jaeh, who Betha hadn’t liked all that much towards the end.

Rhaegar know not how to react. He takes a deep breath and tries to argue against his queen’s claim. “How can you be certain, though? You mustn’t take the word of Pycelle, perhaps he is simply mistake?”

“It’s not just Pycelle who says it - in fact, we haven’t gone to him yet, that’s why no one yet knows. Aegon’s sister Daella’s son, Edrin, he’s a maester with an almost complete chain and is known to be favoured by Lord Leyton. We can trust him completely... that means, unfortunately, he is probably correct.”

“You cannot trust some man my great-grandfather doesn’t even know. This Maester Edrin hasn’t been to check on him, has he? No, I cannot believe it,” Rhaegar dismisses her evidence, not caring that he is being entirely irrational. If Queen Betha, and no doubt King Aegon, believe it then surely it cannot be a lie, still... he doesn’t want to believe it.

Queen Betha suddenly looks her age, Rhaegar thinks. She was nearing eighty and her face was indeed wrinkled, her hair completely grey, her skin paper than it ever has been - especially compared to the portraits Rhaegar has seen of Aegon and Betha as newlyweds - but her eyes, by contrast, are big and dark as ever.

He is just wondering how he shall contact this maester when he remembers something. “You said only you, King Aegon and Uncle Duncan and Aunt Jenny know. Why would they know too? Is this one of her prophecies?” Rhaegar asks, hoping to the Seven it isn’t one of Jenny’s predictions- or rather, her woodswitch’s - because, if Aegon’s death is prophesied by Jenny or her witch Rhaegar absolutely believes it; just as he is completely certain of the Prince That Was Promised coming from the line of historical grandparents, as the witch said.

His beloved, already-grieving great-grandmother confirms his fears and doubts with a simple, “Yes.”

There is a silence in the dining chamber then, as Rhaegar wonders what the future will be like without his kingly great-grandfather. It will be dark, no doubt, and worse than ever before.

“And you believe it?” Rhaegar asks cautiously, knowing that if the queen believes it then it is for true.

After a sip from her goblet, Betha looks at him, nodding. “Yes, I do.”

“How long?” Rhaegar enquirers, trying to sound casual as the world fall apart around his ears. King Aegon had been one of these few constants in Rhaegar’s life, and was a man he could always go to for advice or simple comfort. If Aegon was to die, his father would be king and then Rhaegar himself... he didn’t think he was ready for such a task, even if it would come after his father’s reign.

“We believe Aegon has three moons, at most. I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone, save perhaps those you trust not to tell a single soul, Rhaegar. Aegon wishes for the family to know when he believes the time is right,” Betha tells him, squeezing his hand in hers.

Rhaegar finishes his meal in peace, and after kissing Queen Betha on the cheek, before leaving for... well, he isn’t sure. Just as he is existing the queen’s chambers his (Great)Uncle Duncan is going into them. Duncan, clearly aware Rhaegar now knows of the king’s condition, nods at him.

He nods back, not able to imagine how Duncan is feeling.

 

* * *

 

Knowing that Lyanna shall be with her ladies right now, Rhaegar decides to go see his brother Jaehaerys. He is certain Jaeh knows what is going on with the king - Jaeh _always_ knows, after all. In fact, Rhaegar suspects Jaeh’s dragon dreams and Sight are stronger than any of them truly know.

He cannot imagine it, to be so young with such a burden on his shoulders. Hopefully, Jaeh will do better than others pledged with the dragon dreams have done - Daeron the Drunken, Rhaegar’s great-grandfather and king’s eldest brother, who died before his father King Maekar did. Prince Daeron hadn’t known how to cope with his dreams and the pain, suffering and tragedy they brought and had turned to whoring and drinking to ease his pain. What who our world be like if Daeron the Drunken hadn’t die before Maekar and took the throne one day?

Rhaegar thanks the gods that such a world isn’t the one he lives in.

Hopefully, Jaeh wouldn’t start drinking and whoring to feel better about himself. Jaeh was a smart boy who understood the importance of duty, even at his age, and wasn’t just traditionally smart - as in, books and scrolls - he also had common sense. Something that Rhaegar found many Targaryens to lack.

The problem is - Rhaegar isn’t sure where his young brother would be at this time. He decides to try the training yards, as that’s where most of the boys go after breaking their fast. He passes Edmure Tully and Benjen Stark, who are trying to smack each other over the head while they roar with laughter, and Rhaegar cannot help but smile.

After passing some others, Rhaegar sees Ser Barristan, who over watches the princes’ practises most days. The knight was correcting Daeron’s stance while Willem Darry adjusted Willas Tyrell, Daeron’s companion’s grip on his wooden sword. After, Darry answered one of Aegon’s questions but Rhaegar couldn’t see Jaehaerys.

He goes up to the group. “Ser Barristan, have you seen my brother Jaehaerys?”

The knight nods respectfully towards him before answering, “The Prince was feeling poorly, your grace, and very nearly fainted. Ser Willem took him to his chambers. I believe your mother and a maester saw to him...”

He’s had another vision, Rhaegar realises. He wonders what his brother has seen now. “I shall go visit him, thank you sers.”

The two knights lower their heads in respect before going back to correcting the boys. Leaving the yard, Rhaegar makes his way to Jaeh’s chambers. His brother’s chambers overlook the harbour and it therefore always smells of the sea and not the city - which was fortunate for Jaeh.

Outside his brother’s door is a guard who lets him in, where Rhaegar finds Jaeh sitting on his balcony, both doors that lead from the balcony to the actual chamber wide open. Jaeh lies on his back on the cool marble, his legs in between the railings, just hanging off.

Jaeh doesn’t even seem to notice his presence, his young purple eyes - that have seen far too much - watching the birds fly by.

“Jaeh,” Rhaegar begins, getting his brother’s attention. Jaeh merely turns his head, still laying down, but his eyes leave the clouds. “Are you feeling any better?”

His brother is silent for a moment. “Yes, I was just light headed...” Jaeh tries to act casual, his eyes back on the sky. Neither speak for a moment and Jaeh gestures to the marble floor beside him. “You can sit, if you like.”

Feeling a little silly, Rhaegar sits down beside his little brother, watching the boats come into and out the harbour. Then he remembers why he is here. “Did you have another... vision? Out in the yard?”

“Yes. I know about the king, Rhaegar, I’ve known for a while now.” Jaeh looks at him, gives him a hard stare.

The staring makes Rhaegar a little uncomfortable. Trying to change the subject, he says, “But if you’ve known that for a while, what did you just... see there in the yard?”

Jaeh’s eyes turn dark. “It’s a dream I’ve had a lot now. Rhaegar, there is going to be a big war. Just like Great-Aunt Jenny and her woodswitch said so many years ago; we will need your prince.”

“The Prince That Was Promised,” Rhaegar breathes, almost falling back. He looks over his shoulder and sees the sea and harbour, which was made of hard wood - he wouldn’t like to fall down there. But that doesn’t seem too important now - not when Jaeh has seen the prince! “Have you seen him? And the threat he shall face?”

“I haven’t seen the face but he shall be born from the line the line the woodswitch promised,” Jaeh tells him solemnly. “The threat he faces... it frightens me, Rhaegar. But I’m sure _what_ it really is.”

Rhaegar nods, not wanting to push his brother too far. “It’s fine, Jaeh. Now, you get to bed and have some rest, you’re clearly stressed out and tired. I’ll even try and convince Mother to allow you to eat lunch in your bed, yes?”

“Alright,” Jaeh allows, getting up and going into his room. Rhaegar, once alone on the balcony, takes a moment to ask the gods to help his sweet brother through all the struggles he shall no doubt face. Let him know some peace, Rhaegar prays, before this threat comes. He really needs to ask Jenny and her woodswitch about it.

In fact, Rhaegar needs to ask about many things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love drama lmao


	4. Lyarra I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyarra doesn’t much like the South

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick /recap/ from the first fic in this series: Rhaelle and Edwyle married and had Jorelle (who married Rydan Bolton and is mother to Roose), Rickard (who we know and love/hate/idk), Beron (who married Karstark OC, his daughter married her cousin Rickard Karstark) and Serena (who married Jon A).
> 
> Yeah. By the way, Beron is acting as the Stark in Winterfell right now :) 
> 
> Also there is a lot of /Stark Angst/ here, especially between Brandon and Ned, so - watch out for that!

When Brandon came to her with his claims of joining the Kingsguard, Lyarra thinks first of Branda and Lyanna, and how she seems to be losing those she loves to the South. Branda loves it down here, clearly, and in all the time Lyarra has been here her elder sister hasn’t spoken once of the North or missing it. Even Lyanna, whose blood was fierce with what Rickard adoring named the Wolf Blood, seemed content enough here.

Now Brandon, her fierce and courageous son who was the North in human form, wished to stay down in the capital. Eddard, who was more like Branda than Lyarra liked, had been fostered in the South and seemed more likely than Brandon to decide to stay there. He had no choice now - Eddard would always do his duty, no matter his personal desires.

Looking at her two eldest sons and husband now, Lyarra wonders where she went wrong. Brandon, his dark curls just like hers have grown longer since coming South, but he looks more solemn than he has, perhaps ever; he truly wants to stay here, she realises.

And beside him is Eddard, whose hair is cut shorter in the Southron way and his dark grey eyes loiled straight at Brandon, and she can’t help but think about all she missed out on; the first book he read properly for himself, his first time fighting with true steel, all the times he rode a horse, the scars he got from all his boyish adventures, then there were the namedays she hadn’t been there for - as well as all the smiles and laughs and joys she missed out on.

Jon Arryn got to see them all, he and Serena, Rickard’s younger sister. Lyarra has been good friends with her cousin Serena growing up and she knew that she was a perfect role model and mother-figure - still, the thought of Eddard seeing her as a mother and not Lyarra herself made her stomach twist with jealousy.

She knew she was being silly, and made herself think of the positives; she would get to know Eddard better, Brandon and Lyanna would have one another and both could get to know their Aunt Branda, and Benjen would still be in Winterfell. Yes, Benjen, her sweet boy who dreamed so hard and loved harder still - much like Eddard had once been, she supposed.

Lyarra tried to focus again on the situation at hand. “You truly wish to go to the king about joining the Kingsguard?” Rickard is asking their eldest son.

Brandon has never look surer about anything. “Yes. Old Ser Harlan is getting on, you know... the word is he’s going to die soon and the royals are already looking for someone new. Not that I don’t respect the man - just, well, the timing is rather perfect for me, is it not? Almost like the gods had something to do with you, eh?”

It’s Eddard who rolls his eyes, just as both his parents wanted to. “Brandon, Ser Harlan follows the Seven, and he isn’t even dead yet and may well surpass this illness. We both know that Cousin Lansa fell ill after she had young Harrion and most believed she was to die - and yet she’s still alive, and doing quite well.”

Lyarra couldn’t help but agree with that. Lansa was Rickard’s niece through her being his brother Beron’s girl, and she had only been wed to Rickard Karstark for just over a year and given him only one son when she fell terribly ill. And survived, as Eddard had said.

Her eldest son cares not, though. “Just because you don’t want me to leave my position as heir.”

“Obviously not,” Eddard counters, sending his brother a barely hidden glare. “I grew up in the Vale and therefore know little of true Northern histories and studies beyond that of an eight year old; I haven’t visited Winterfell in near five years; I don’t know any of the Northern lords or their heirs personally - or at all, really. I am entirely unprepared to rule a kingdom because I wasn’t raised to do so! No doubt the people of the North don’t even count me as one of them.”

For a moment, Brandon seems affected by Eddard’s rather emotional speech. “Or you simply wished to spend your life with your beloved Robert. Your _true brother_.” By the end of that, Brandon has pushed out his chair and is standing.

Clearly, they’ve argued about this before. Lyarra sees the harsh looks they send each other and her mind goes instantly to the Dance of the Dragons, a civil war between two arguing siblings, both of whom knew not have to back down. Her sons would never start a war between them... but often it felt like that!

“Of course I count Robert as a brother!” Eddard shouts, angrier than Lyarra has ever seen her second son, “I grew up with him! I learnt to write and fight and hunt beside him, just as you did with Roose Bolton and Roger Dustin and all the others!”

Eddard too is standing, the looks he gives Brandon is as fierce as a dragon’s fire. Lyarra looks to Rickard, who watchs their boys sternly. He goes to say something - no doubt to tell them to stop - but Brandon speaks up again. “And yet, I have never held them above you! I’ve never thought of them as my true brothers, not as you do Robert!”

“If that’s what you believe then fine - Robert is a far better brother to me than you ever were!”

There is a loud scraping and all heads turn to see Rickard standing, taller than both the boys, his chair halfway across the room he’d stood so quick. Lyarra, quieter, stands beside him, so as to make sure he doesn’t also loose his temper.

“You two better stop this nonsense at once! You are brothers, try and remember that, if it isn’t so difficult. You are blood and must protect one another until your last breath; I’ll be damned if I die knowing you two despise each other. We Starks haven’t stood for millennia because we turn in on our own!” Rickard tells them, voice more emotional than he usually allows his children to see.

Brandon and Eddard look at each other, faces both hard. They have enough respect for Rickard to stop fighting but they’re stubborn to no end and nether is willing to apologise.

Deciding that now is her time to step in, Lyarra says. “Boys, if Brandon is to stay here you may not see one another for a while yet, surely you do not wish to end in bad terms?”

Her sons look at her then, both looking at least a little guilty. It is Eddard who speaks first. “All I meant was... I know nothing of the North - and you can be -“

“Rather selfish?” Brandon suggests, wearing a grin.

Eddard nods, the hint of a smile on his face. “And you’ll need to help me with this, if I’m to rule the North...” Brandon smiles, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, vowing to help him.

 _If only they could always like one another_ , Lyarra thinks.

 

* * *

 

  
While Rickard takes Brandon to see the king - and his Hand, Lord Steffon, who does much of the work now that King Aegon is getting older - Lyarra hopes to speak with her second son, to get to know him better. Just as she goes to ask him about his favourite places in the Vale, Eddard says, “I’m going to go find Robert, he’s trying to show the young princes how to wield his war hammer.”

“Of course,” Lyarra says with a smile, which was perhaps a little forced. Eddard doesn’t seem to notice, he soon leaves to find his good friend. Lyarra wondered if perhaps he truly did see Robert Baratheon as more a brother than he did Brandon or Benjen - she also wonders if she and Rickard are to blame for it. Mayhaps they didn’t need to send him so far away, or so soon?

Nothing can change it now, she supposed. Eddard will be in the North now (really he should have been already, considering he was eighteen and his fostering was to end at sixteen. If her son saw the Vale as a home enough to stay longer then that was up to him, Lyarra knew.)

Instead of dwelling on such things, Lyarra decides to go see her other children - before remembering that Lyanna is with her new ladies, including Lysa Tully, Leyla Hightower and her cousin Alynne Rogers, and Benjen is going into the city with Edmure Tully, Willas Tyrell and one of the younger princes to oversee the building of an orphanage or school - the ideas of Queen Betha and Princess Rhaella, Lyarra thinks.

Then, as she is walking out she and Rickard’s chambers, she meets Princess Rhaella, the future queen. There is an odd look to every Targaryen, Lyarra knows, something inhuman about them but Princess Rhaella has such a delicate look about her, quite unlike Queen Betha or her Aunt Rhaelle, Rickard’s mother. (Rhaelle was currently with her sister, Lady Shaera, Lyarra knows.)

“Lady Lyarra, I was just thinking of you,” the princess tells her with a smile. “Some ladies of the court and I were going to have our lunches together tomorrow, while our husbands are out hunting. Should you like to come?”

Of course, how could she forget about the hunt? The first thing Lyarra thinks is; _I pray my sons don’t shoot at one another._

She looks back at the princess. _I cannot refuse a princess of the realm, especially the future queen and godmother to my Lyanna_. “I would be honoured, princess.”

“Brilliant, I shall have someone collect you when all is ready,” Princess Rhaella tells her and leaves as quickly as she appeared, leaving Lyarra trying to hold back a groan. Spending time with Southron ladies - including her sister and no doubt her goodsister Serena - wasn’t what she had planned for tomorrow; she’d much rather go hunting, actually.

Yet, there is no good in angering a Targaryen, is there?

Besides, this could be a good chance to ask Serena about Eddard, and she supposed speaking with Branda wasn’t the worst thing in the known world - just, the second worst.

Lyarra decides to go find her daughter and when she finally gets to Lyanna’s chambers (after almost getting lost far too many times) is surprised to see her daughter is sewing, laughing with her Southron ladies. She had thought Lyanna would be outside, as so often she is. “Mother,” she greets with a warm smile.

“Hello, my daughter,” Lyarra inclines her head, remembering her daughter is indeed a princess and shall one day be queen. “I should like to speak with you privately, if it isn’t too much a bother.”

Lyanna smiles at her, but her brow furrows in worry - she thinks something is wrong; and really, Lyarra supposed this was a rather difficult situation. With as much grace as Princess Rhaella, Lyanna dismisses her ladies. “Lysa, you must tell me how things work out with Ser Elbert, yes?”

Her daughter sends an encouraging smile to Hoster Tully’s youngest daughter. “I will, Lyanna - I mean, Princess Lyanna...”

Eventually all the girls have gone, curtsying to both Lyanna and Lyarra. She sits down beside her daughter, who holds something grey in her hands. “What is that?” She asks her daughter.

Lyanna smiles and shows her a - gods, was that truly a baby blanket? There were little direwolves running around it in grey and white, blacks and purples. Surely this must be for the Houses Targaryen and Stark! “Oh, Lyanna, I can’t believe you’re with child already! I must say it didn’t take you long but those of the Flint blood are known to be fertile -“

“Mother,” Lyanna interrupts, “I am _not_ with child, Aunt Branda’s girl, Mariah, she is with child. Mariah will be going back to Starfall with Lord Arren Dayne for the birth, so I wanted to make her something.”

Lyarra can feel the smile be wiped from her face. “You aren’t with child? That’s quite fine, I did think it was rather soon, even for a Flint...”

“Mariah has Flint blood too,” Lyanna reminds her, “Aunt Branda is Grandfather Rodrik and Grandmother Arya’s eldest child, after all.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Lyarra allows. Then, she tells Lyanna about Brandon and his wishes to become a Kingsguard and stay in the South. At the end of it all Lyanna is quite silent, taking in this information quite well. After a moment, Lyanna breaks into a grin.

When Lyarra asks what is so funny, her daughters laughs aloud. “Oh, I so wish I could have seen Father’s face!”

Lyarra ends up laughing too, because Rickard’s expressions had been amusing - and she is also happy, and relieved, to see her daughter isn’t a true Southron lady. She is still Lyanna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if anyone cares I have a tumblr (also doomeric).....


	5. Lyanna II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna’s time is coming...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s a lot of badass women here :)))

There was much Lyanna wasn’t used to in the capital, even the things she enjoyed - like riding and speaking with people - but being with Rhaegar was one of the highlights. Some days they would walk around the gardens or visit the dragon pit or go riding, Lyanna cared not for she loved spending any time with him - and yes, she knew she sounded like a singer.

Today they were visiting some of the orphanages in Kings Landing. The city was much better than Aunt Branda said it used to be; King Aegon seemed determined to clean the city up. Proper draining was being put into the city and there was to be more spaces between, well, everything, as well as more play areas for children. There were now proper orphanages and schools and children were treated much better in general.

Rhaegar has decided it would do good to spend time with these children who would one day be his people and Lyanna had accepted his invitation to come along. In the end, his brothers Aegon and Jaehaerys were to come along too. Lyanna had begged Ned into coming along and her brother could never not give into her smiles.

So, while Rhaegar spoke with some of the children and Jaeh played with some, Aegon trying not to sneer and raise his nose in the background, Lyanna and Ned caught up with each other. Ned, unable to say no to anyone, had somehow ended up holding a babe and was rocking her gently.

“Will Father actually allow Brandon to get away with it?” Lyanna wonders aloud, thinking of her brother being a White Cloak alongside the legendary Ser Barristan and Prince Lewyn, among others.

“They’ve gone to see King Aegon about it and from what I could get out of Father it seemed it may well happen,” Ned answers, not looking at her.

Lyanna cocks her head to the side. “Do you want it to happen?”

“I do not mean to be selfish,” Ned begins, “but I had my life planned out, sort of. I was going to go stay with Robert for a while in Storm’s End - Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana have said many a time they’d be pleased to have me - and enjoy having a life away from being Jon’s ward or Rickard’s second son. I had wanted to see some of the world - or at least visit each kingdom in Westeros.

“Then perhaps I might settle down with a girl from the Stormlands - Robert is all but ready to give me lands and a seat of my own down there - or perhaps even a second daughter in the Vale, and raise a dozen babes away and stay away from forever having to live up to Brandon and Father. Now... such things may be impossible.”

Her brother looks down after his little rant, apparently ashamed. Lyanna puts a hand to his elbow in comfort. “Ned, you are probably the least selfish person I’ve ever met. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to dream - and have a life of your own. It’s just, some take dreams too far and forget about duty and family - yes, I speak of Brandon.”

Ned didn’t like talking ill of anyone, especially his own blood, but he does nod. “I shall be honest... a part of me prays this doesn’t happen. I haven’t be trained to rule any kingdom and definitely not the North - which we know is so different from all the others, including their ways - I wasn’t even raised in the North, not truly. How can I rule a place I do not know?”

“You do know the North,” Lyanna argues, “you weren’t a babe when you left - you were eight.”

“Yes, Lya, but how much has changed since then? I know nothing of any of the lords personally, or their heirs. I doubt anyone in the North would know me from a commoner with dark hair. Yet, in the Vale lords and ladies watched me grow and have gained my respect and loyalty.”

Lyanna smiles at her brother, who is clearly scared without wanting to show it. “You must gain the Northerners loyalty as you did the Valemen. There is naught wrong with being afraid, brother, even if men are reluctant to show it.”

“I know there is nothing bad about being afraid,” Ned tells her, rocking the babe gently again. “It is the only time you can truly be brave.”

She decides to leave it at that, and holds a babe that one of the women who run the orphanage gives to her. Lyanna finds herself wondering about having a child of her own, then she looks to Rhaegar, who is telling some of the children of story of dragons.

Yes, she wouldn’t mind a babe right now, or five.

 

* * *

 

Lyanna had gotten to know many at court, especially those of Rhaegar’s family. She knew the King and Queen, Crown Prince Aerys, his many children. She had even spoken regularly to Arthur and Ashara Dayne, who were the half-siblings of Prince Aerys and Princess Rhaella through being the children of Princess Shaera.

Princess Rhaella was the one person Lyanna didn’t know too well. The woman was always with her ladies or children or taking care of matters of the keep and kingdom she shall one day rule alongside Prince Aerys. Everyone knew the king and queen were getting old, and that Prince Aerys and Princess Rhaella we’re preparing themselves to become the next rulers.

That was why the princess was so busy - and she had her children to care for, as well as all her charities. But today the men were going out hunting and it seemed the perfect time for them to get to know each other.

Lyanna was sent for by young Prince Jaehaerys- or Jaeh, as his family tended to call him. In his small voice he asked if Lyanna would like to eat her lunch with Princess Rhaella and Princess Shaena, and that she could bring someone along too. Lyanna asked her mother to come along but Lady Lyarra wasn’t feeling so well - the heat, her mother had moaned - so her Aunt Branda was coming instead.

Aunt Branda was the perfect Southron lady; pretty, polite, well dressed, faithful to her husband. Yet, from what Lyanna knew Southron women had far less freedom than Northerners. Lyanna did love the South and it was to be her home, but she cannot ever imagine actually deliberately leaving he North and vowing never to return. What was so wrong with it that Aunt Branda felt she couldn’t stay, that she went halfway across Westeros?

Whatever the reason was, Lyanna’s mother often said that leaving the North was the most wilful, independent thing her mother had ever done.

Lyanna supposed she would ask her Aunt one day but right now they were to have lunch with the Crown Princess and her only daughter, which Aunt Branda was rather ready for. She served as a lady-in-waiting to Princess Rhaella when they were both girls, of course she knows what to do.

Princess Rhaella’s chambers have a lovely breeze coming through her open doors, and the balconies overlook the city and tourney ground. The young princes for once weren’t with their mother - Daeron and Aegon were off hunting with the rest of the men, squiring for Rhaegar and Arthur Dayne respectively. Then Jaeh and Viserys were in their lessons, both moaning about not being allowed to go hunting too.

To be fair, Lyanna had only barely resisted whining about not being allowed to go hunting. But that was for later as she and her aunt had reached the Crown Princess’ dining chambers.

Princess Rhaella welcomed them in graciously, asking them to make themselves comfortable and pour some water or wine if they’d like. “Where is Shaena?” Lyanna asks, not seeing her only goodsister anywhere.

“Visiting King Aegon and Queen Betha,” Rhaella answers, she too sitting down. “We all know how poorly my kingly grandsire has become recently, and Shaena has always been close to him. She brings him flowers everyday, my sweet girl.”

Aunt Branda smiles politely. “My eldest girl, Mariah, was close to her grandfather and was with him in his times of ill health. I can only pray our king gains his strength and health.”

Lyanna thinks her aunt speaks of Mariah’s Stark grandfather; Rodrik Stark. The Wandering Wolf never met any of his grandchildren for he disappeared at sea when Lyanna’s mother was only just betrothed to her father. Mariah must have been close to her Rogers grandsire.

“I was rather close to grandfather as a babe, I must admit, more so than I was to my late father,” Princess Rhaella says, pouring herself some lemon water. “You were young when your own grandsire, Lord Edwyle past, weren’t you Lyanna?”

Lyanna nods. She remembers little of Lord Edwyle; big grins, loud laughs, strong hands through her up and catching her. “Yes, I was five when he passed, I believe. I didn’t have a chance to be close to him, really.”

Rhaella gives her a comforting smile. “And you, Lady Branda, What was your grandfather like?”

For the first time in the moons Lyanna has known her aunt, Branda smiles at the mention of the North. “Grandfather Beron died when I was young but I was so close to him as a girl. Father was the youngest of his seven children but I was one of his eldest grandchildren and one of the few who knew him well. He told me stories of wildlings and the Children.”

“I’m afraid I’m not so well versed in Northern legends,” Princess Rhaella says, “what are these wildlings? I recall Lyanna telling me a little about them.”

“Ah, I’ve not been North for years, your grace, my niece would be best to speak of such things,” Aunt Branda dismisses, going back to looking reluctant to think and speak of the North.

Lyanna wishes to know her aunt’s tales but decides now is not the time. “Wildlings are what we call those who live Beyond the Wall, though they call themselves the Free Folk - due to their lack of laws and discipline. They’re a truly wild folk, hence the name, and are barbarians and savages. Northern children are told tales of their fierceness - Old Nan always told me if I behaved poorly a wildlings would come and steal me away.”

To her surprise, Rhaella laughs. At Lyanna’s questioning look the Crown Princess shakes her head. “I mean not to offend, no doubt some of these wildlings are as you say - wild. What is funny to me though, is that the way you describe these wildlings is the way us below the Neck speak of Northerners!”

That causes Lyanna to laugh as well, because there is a certain irony there. Aunt Branda smiles and adds, “As someone who has lived on both side of the Neck I do have a certain lack of belief in the rumours of the wildlings, if only because what some Southroners say of Northerners is completely untrue.”

There is some quiet then, as the three of them begin eating their lunch - after Rhaella had said they needn’t wait for Shaena. Then, Lyanna wonders aloud, “Do you think Shaena is lost?”

Rhaella laughs, but looks a little concerned. “Yes... perhaps.” She calls for the guard and asks him if he might go fetch Shaena, saying how rude it is that she is leaving her guests at lunch.

It takes a few minutes before the guard comes back - with Shaena and Ser Barristan in tow. Rhaella immediately stands at, clearly knowing something is wrong. Lyanna, following her goodmother’s lead, gets up from her chair and looks curiously at Shaena.

“What has happened?” Rhaella asks, going around the table to be closer to Shaena, who is paler than usual. When Shaena doesn’t answer, able only to shake her head, Rhaella turns to Ser Barristan. “Ser, tell me what is wrong.”

Ser Barristan, ever quick to follow his orders, bows his head. “King Aegon is very ill, dangerously so. The queen too is feeling poorly - not extremely or so much to cause unrest - but she is in her own chambers. Prince Duncan and Lady Rhaelle are with the king. With Prince Aerys gone, you are next in command, your grace...”

Lyanna spares a glance at Shaena, who is gripping onto Ser Barristan’s arm. She knows her beloved grandfather is going to die, and soon. At her side, her Aunt Branda puts a hand on her arm and Lyanna understands the look she gives her; stay out of these matters for now. Lyanna may be a Targaryen by blood, and liked by King Aegon, but blood kin is more important than anything.

In that moment, though, Princess Rhaella looks exactly like the queen she shall be unfortunately soon. “Alright, Shaena, go get Jaeh and Viserys and take them time your father’s solar and make sure you eat something, you look too pale; Ser Barristan, send someone to get Aerys, Rhaegar and the others, they should be here for my grandfather’s death.” Rhaella turns to the guards present. “Send a letter to my Aunt Shaena in Starfall, as well as her children, my half-siblings, and to whoever it is running Winterfell right now -“

“- Uncle Beron -“ Lyanna supplies and Rhaella nods.  
“Yes, Rickard’s younger brother. We should also write to the lords and ladies of the Great Houses if his condition worsens. Now we must write to cousin Steffon as well as Lords Arryn and Dayne, and any others who share our blood.”

Ser Barristan and the guards nod. Shaena has already left to find her youngest brothers. “Anything else, your grace?”

Rhaella seems to be thinking for a moment before nodding. “Write to my brother’s siblings. Aemon is at the Wall so the message shall take a while but we may as well. Great-Aunt Daella is still on Tarth, though her age may make it difficult for her to get here, perhaps her son could come - or whoever the Lord of Tarth is? Her grandson Selwyn, perhaps? Oh, and Rhae wed into House Dayne and she passed not too long ago... but her grandson is my half-brother, Lord Arren.

“Yes, I suppose that’s it. Most close to him are in the capital. When he does eventually pass we shall need word to send to the Great Houses, so we must be prepared for that, sers.”

“Yes, your grace,” the Kingsguard and guards bow before going off to do their duties.

When all are gone, Princess Rhaella falls into a chair. “I... I must go to the king and queen, see my children... Lyanna, soon enough you shall be Crown Princess and I give you your first command; await Crown Prince Aerys’ and your husband’s arrival and inform them on the situation. Aerys shall tell those of the castle, Rhaegar can go to the city and speak.”

Lyanna blinks in surprise. “Am I ready?”

Rhaella takes a moment from looking so fierce, putting a hand to Lyanna’s cheek. “There is no choice, Lyanna. You must be ready.”

Then Rhaella leaves, a member of the Kingsguard behind her. Aunt Branda presses a kiss to Lyanna’s head in a motherly way. “Good luck, my niece, I shall get all the Starks still in the castle and we will be in your lord father’s solar, with your mother. This is your first task, my darling niece. I wish you the best.”

Lyanna takes a deep breath, steadying herself before nodding, and going to do her duty.


	6. Author’s Note

So, this fic is currently being rewritten because I just don’t... like where this is going/what I’ve done so far. Much is unexplained, things are forgotten and I just... am very much invested in this AU of mine and want it to show!!

 

The next fic in this series should be about Rickard/Aerys/Tywin’s generation (or, the Ninepenny Kings generation) and will include OCs, if you... don’t like them? I don’t know! 

 

If you want to /stay updated/ or ask about this AU (or... anything to do with ASOIAF, really) then you can always see me on Tumblr where my blog is “doomeric”. Thanks for reading this far!!


	7. Authors Note

Hey! So I know this work/series has been abandoned for A While now but I am going to be rewriting it on my new ao3 [ckedrella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckedrella) so if you want to actually read the fic be sure to check it out over there haha. I also have a tumblr of the same name.........

 

Im hoping to improve this story and the characters as well as updating regularly, if there is anything you think should be changed for the new story please tell me either here or at my tumblr @ckedrella :)


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